


Not Anymore

by orphan_account



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, Rape/Non-con Elements, Unethical Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 06:03:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11269449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's Mother's Day and Peter discovers a dark secret about Rocket.





	Not Anymore

Sometimes, this particular holiday (though it wasn't recognized by any other planet but his) was a little painful for him and so when he woke up, knowing his piloting shift was about to start...he wondered if maybe he could just stay in bed instead. Gamora would surely come looking for him but probably when she saw he wasn't exactly his usual self, then maybe he'd be allowed to mope. Yeah, an entire day in bed listening to soft, sad songs sounded good...But somehow he didn't completely want to mope this year and maybe it was because it was alittle different this time around. He wasn't alone on his ship, wandering aimlessly through space. His ship was full of his oddball crew and while his chest ached, and he wished he was one of those lucky bastards that could call home and wish his mom a happy mother's day...he couldn't. He hadn't been able to for over two decades and while he had become accustomed in some ways to that depressing truth, he also couldn't fully rid himself of this painful ache...one that he thought might be less foremost with his friends distracting him. But he was still a bit unsure.

He heard a knock on his door before it slid open.

"You told me once, " she starts and he suspects she's leaving off a 'when you were drunk', " That there are only four days of the year you become solemn. Christmas, your birthday, her birthday, and the day of mothers."

"Mother's Day."

Gamora nods as she sits on the very edge of his bed and she kinda has a legitimate reason to be cautious around his sheets given his tendency to invite visitors into his bed, " Peter. If...you would like to be left alone, I can let the others know."

It's tempting and he nearly turns over so he can curl back up but something stops him. He thinks maybe...maybe his mother would be proud of him, happy that he wasn't alone and that he had people who cared for him. And he feels a sudden closeness to her as he can hear music from the open doorway, his mother's playlist, as well as laughter and clattering dishes. Breakfast, he realizes and he can almost imagine Drax at the stove with a spatula as Groot moved to the beat, Rocket trying to get him to drink his morning plant growth serum. He looks Gamora in the eye and he misses his mom, misses her so much and yet he gets up to get dressed. He can make it through the day he thinks and already, he's thinking of ways to distract himself, ways that of course involving mischief, and maybe a 3d printer.

\----

"This ain't funny."

Peter snickered and once again tried to shove the mug titled #1 Mom into the furry being's hands but Rocket hadn't even lifted his arms, keeping his gaze downward as he sneered. Groot, clinging to his tail, let out a soft sound of confusion.

" Groot ain't my kid. This ain't funny."

"Oh, come on. We do this back on Earth for mothers, stepmoms, grandmoms and aunties. Why not angry raccoons who look after baby trees? And plus you've been so motherly to the little guy, which is yeah, a shock, but you've earned it, buddy. Happy Mother's Day! "

The mug hit the ship's floor with a crash and Peter actually took a step back when sharp teeth flashed in his direction. He'd expected anger, harsh retorts for his jokes but not this level of anger or the weird, contained expression. He'd thought maybe it would end in good humor, get the rest of the crew laughing and joking to distract him from his own melancholy. But he'd messed up, had really stepped in it this time and he didn't know why or how. Luckily, Groot was quick to intervene, cooing to Rocket who had already reached for his weapon and it seemed to take a while for him to be talked down, several long minutes for him to retort in a seething voice,

"You don't know shit, you don't know what I went through. What it was fricking like!"

He takes a guess, mind working rapidly when it looks like his two crewmates are about to fight, "Wait, Rocket, do...do you have kids?"

"No, " comes the hollow response, " Not any more."

"But how?"

"You think the doctors wouldn't see a specimen who survived longer than twelve predecessors and 7 successors and think, huh, maybe its genetics should be continued on?"

"So they made you, and another...and she had-"

Rocket let out a bitter laugh, harsh and startling unlike his real chittering chuckles that he tried to hide and his booming fake cackles; Peter felt his blood run cold when Rocket placed a clawed hand on his flat abdomen, " Oh no. See, castration was pivotal to confirming a null hypothesis in round 18 of longevity experimentation. And luckily, a spur of the moment decision to preserve organs from 89p09 in case transplants were needed for her offspring, allowed round 174 to begin with an introduction of p13 and p20-"

Peter sputtered but Rocket pressed on, spitting out the words.

"But just like all the others...only me, only I lived through every fucking agonizing experiment, lived to see five little furry creatures just like me get grabbed up by gloved hands and taken...only they weren't like me. They didn't last a damn day, " Groot whimpers but stops trying to keep Rocket still, somehow knowing he wasn't going to go for Peter again.

" I ain't no one's mother. Mothers protect their kids. Mother's love their kids. I hated them, hated every single time they pinned me down and-"

Groot used his vines to pull himself onto a distraught Rocket's shoulder, hugging his head with watery eyes. Stepping over the broken porcelain, Rocket staggered deep into the ship, leaving Peter to stare after him. When he was alone, he grabbed his head, cursing to himself. He didn't even know how to process this information, didn't know how to feel... He turned when he heard approaching footsteps. Drax stood, raising a brow at Peter for his strange expression and anxious loitering. The words almost burst out because Peter wants help understanding this, could honestly use another person's perspective in figuring out what to say and yet....

He would never speak of this again and as much agony he knew it must cause him, keeping it inside, he hoped Rocket didn't either.

Kneeling, he collected the broken mug and the card, nodding as he headed back to his room. Music continued to play over the sound system, filtered through every room on the Milano. Shoving everything into the trashcan, he sat heavily on his bed. He imagines it, not by choice really...Rocket with a heavy belly and scared eyes as his labor progressed. He imagines another raccoon, bigger and stronger that only wins the fight and pins a furious Rocket because a set of gloved hands intervene. He imagines the yells, wonders if Rocket had a voicebox then or just his natural yowls; he wondered if he was aware of what was happening to his body as he went through a nauseous stage, a fatigued stage, a bloating stage until...he wondered if Rocket really hated those five mewling bundles or if he hated himself for letting them be born when there was only going to be painful experiments ahead. He wondered if Rocket fought when they tried to take them, pulled them off the teat before they'd even latched properly. He wondered if they had tried to breed him more than once after the failure and then, he reached under his bed to pull out a 1/5 of Jack.

He didn't want to wonder any more.


End file.
